Hold Me Closer, Necromancer - Lish McBride [67]
Still, he was a tool Douglas could use. Douglas wouldn’t have gotten this far if he’d been afraid of risk or potentially dangerous allies. In fact, one could say he’d become quite adept at using both.
Back at the house, Douglas peeked under Sam’s eyelids, checking the pupils for reaction to light. Sam would be in pain, but Douglas didn’t see any permanent damage. He supervised as Michael put Sam into the cage with the girl, making sure to keep an eye on Bridin. She had a knack for pushing all of Michael’s buttons, and Douglas had an interest in keeping everyone intact. For now, at least.
Michael tossed Sam at Bridin’s feet. The boy only warranted a cursory glance from her.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Lunch,” Michael said.
Bridin made a face that was only slightly more mature than sticking out her tongue. Michael gave her the finger.
“Children, please,” Douglas chided.
The girl looked away. “I’m just saying, you guys keep up at this rate, I’m going to run out of sitting room.” She gazed sideways at Sam. “Who is he, anyway?”
“Nobody,” Michael said. “That’s who.”
Douglas thought she’d have to be dead to not catch the tone that plainly said Michael didn’t care for Sam. Which, of course, would make the boy irresistible to Bridin. He’d just made her acquaintance, but Douglas felt he understood her much more than his lackey did. He watched as she eased over to Sam and smoothed his sandy hair.
“I don’t know,” she said as she pushed back a tuft of hair, revealing a little of Sam’s face. “He’s kind of cute.” She gently touched a few of the healing scuffs on Sam’s cheek.
Michael made a sound of revulsion. “You wouldn’t.” He looked Bridin up and down, his lip curling in disgust. “Then again, maybe you would. What’s a half-breed care, huh? Blood’s already watered down, why not thin it again?”
Bridin continued to run her hand through Sam’s hair in speculation. “You know, Michael, it’s that kind of thinking that’s made your family so inbred.”
Douglas reached out and put a hand on Michael’s chest, stopping him before he moved forward. Michael didn’t advance, but he continued to glare at Bridin. “My family,” he spat, “is not inbred.”
Bridin ran a finger down Sam’s jawline, stopping at the point of his chin. “Oh, really?” she said. “Because before my father took over, there weren’t that many wolves in your pack. And you didn’t keep the best of records. You’d probably rut your own sister if she were in heat.”
Douglas grabbed the back of Michael’s neck, exerting his will, letting it flow over Michael’s anger. He felt the rage getting ready to push the were closer to a change. Douglas smoothed it down, relaxing Michael as best he could.
“That is quite enough,” Douglas said. Bridin had a good mask. She didn’t let much emotion get through that she didn’t choose to show. Still, Douglas could tell that she’d noticed his control over Michael. A control he shouldn’t have. Only a pack leader should’ve been able to do what he’d just done, necromancer or not. He left before she could ask any more questions, but he could feel her eyes on him as he walked up the stairs. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he pushed Michael through the door. Douglas could almost hear the whirring of her thoughts as she dealt with all the information she’d just gathered. He’d underestimated her and would have to be a little more careful in her presence. Finally, a bit of a challenge. The door clicked as he secured the locks.
Douglas opened the window in his study so he could feel the breeze coming off Lake Washington. The gentle pat pat of James’s feet heralded his entrance. Douglas was wise enough to know that he only heard the sound because James wanted him to.
“How is it coming with the girl?”
“Slowly,” Douglas answered,